


To (Un)Boldly Go

by tohzier



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Being Demoted, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Garbage Runs, General Space Buffoonery, Lesbian Beverly Marsh, M/M, Multi, Space Battles, Space Husbands, Space Opera, Star Trek AU, Star Trek References, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Will Be Hellishly Long, author plays fast and lose with the laws of physics, i haven't made up my mind, possibly stanlon centric, slight nsfw, space, who will date bill denbrough? not even i can tell you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:23:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tohzier/pseuds/tohzier
Summary: the uss derry and her crew are, in every sense, the most useless ship in all of starfleet. but even the most hopeless of hot messes can sometimes manage to get their shit together long enough to make something stick, and the self titled losers of the federation are here to prove that even if you hate the job, you should never fire your garbage man.that is unless he can’t even take out the trash.





	1. overture

**Author's Note:**

> hello there dears! welcome to my next unnecessarily convoluted and self aggrandizing drivel. this is, in every sense, self serviant because i am a HO for star trek and the losers club so.... here's a thing no one asked for. this will be set up in a series of alternating chapters, with every other after this one following the current timeline established below. the ones in between will be flashbacks to their academy days and a b plot i have planned for then. is a b plot needed in what should be a one-and-done cheesy oneshot? no. am i fully committing to writing what will turn into two multichapters in one? yup.  
> and yes, this opening scene is based on a geico commerical. fucking sue me.  
> come talk to me on tumblr! @tohzier

Small, methodical beeps slowly drifted through Michael Hanlons consciousness. Their repetitive sounding used to make his teeth grate at first, but now, after three years of hearing it daily it barely registered in his mind, every once in awhile coming to his notice, as it did now when he stepped onto the bridge.  
Three years of this goddamned deep space mission and the pilot was still never on time for his designated shifts.  
“Captain.” Mike made his presence known, stepping around the side of the deck to face his captain and oldest friend in his chair. Bill Denbrough gave him a thin smile, exhaustion plain on his face. “Tozier still not up yet?”  
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him this shift. Kaspbrak either.” He added with an eye roll.  
“Those little-” Mike caught himself, eyeing the few subordinates at their posts, the alternate crew all waiting for their reliefs to come in. “You’re on early.” Mike decided to change the subject, carefully surveying the bags under Bill’s eyes.  
“Couldn’t sleep.” Bill shrugged. “You wanted Tozier for his physical?”  
“Yeah. I’ll pull him once he’s done with dailies.” Mike replied, Bill’s question a clear indicator of the end of the discussion.  
“Morning, crew.” Chief engineer Beverly Marsh’s voice sounded behind them, as she stepped out of the lift into the bridge.  
“Morning, Lieutenant Marsh.” Mike gave her a warm smile, Bill turning over his shoulder to give her a slight wave. “You seen Tozier?”  
“Wasn’t in the mess hall.” She said as she tucked a few loose strands of hair into her updo with a small hairpin. “He’s up before me today, right?”  
“Supposedly. But if you’re ready first I can take you.” Mike shrugged. Bev tapped the shoulder of her ensign to relieve him of his post. He waved goodbye with a small yawn and stepped into the lift, riding it down.  
“Just let me pull my diagnostics love, then I’m all yours.” She threw over her shoulder with a smile, logging into her station and pulling up her reports. Mike snorted; Beverly was always one to ignore formality.  
The lift opened again, and a rather grumpy looking Ben Hanscom stepped out of the lift, coffee mug in one hand and stack of reports in the other. He gave them all a curt nod before taking a sip and plopping wordlessly down at his station, parallel to Beverly’s across the entryway.  
“I take it you didn’t rest well.” Bill said as Ben’s ensign took her cue to leave. Ben shook his head without turning to face them, causing both men to laugh.  
The lift opened again, this time releasing their beloved science officer. “Morning, Commander Uris.” Mike reached out a hand to clap Stanley Uris’ shoulder, a kind and friendly gesture the two so often shared.  
“Good morning.” He nodded over Mike’s shoulder at his relief, who left to their bed. “How are we, captain?” Stanley continued, turning to Bill.  
“She’s as shitty as ever, Stan.” Bill said with a small laugh, ignoring the looks of slight surprise from the navigator and pilot of the secondary crew who were still on the bridge. “Boys, you can both head off early, I have no idea when your relief crew is going to show up.” Bill switched to his authoritative voice as he addressed the ensigns, who looked at each other with shrugs before muttering quick ‘yes sirs’ and exiting the bridge. As they left, Beverly began printing sheets of data out of the port on her desk.  
“It couldn’t kill them to upgrade us to I don’t know-” Bev said suddenly, tugging frustratedly at the paper now jamming. “Not a fucking antiquated paper system?”  
“No, no, that would cost money Miss Marsh.” Stan joked, affecting the tone of their supervisor. “We can’t budget for that right now.”  
Bill and Mike joined him in laughter, though for each of them it was tinged with bitterness.  
“Fuck’s sake-” She spat, a final yank releasing the now very crinkled report she’d been attempting to retrieve. “Well, guess that’s the best I’ll get.” She sighed, straightening it out, before turning around. “Let’s get this over with Mikey, now I’ve gotta spend my morning fixing this shit.” She jerked a thumb at her station before walking over to link arms with him. “Shall we, doctor?”  
“Lets.” He jokingly preened, straightening his back as he and Beverly fell into a joking skip, earning laughter from the three boys they left behind. Once in the lift, Mike released a yawn.  
“Bad night for you too?” Beverly quizzed, shooting him a knowing look.  
“Couldn’t really keep asleep.” Mike admitted. “I just kind of had a bad feeling. I don’t know.” He shook his head, adjusting his grip on the lift handle. “I think it’s all the uneventfulness. I’m getting paranoid.” They laughed together.  
“Darn fucking right it’s been uneventful. This is just about the worst quadrant to be assigned to.” Bev agreed. “I almost wish something bad would happen.”  
The lift doors opened, revealing a long, sleek viewing window on the other side of the hallway that lead to the medical bay. Almost as if on cue, a foreign missile sped past the window, stopping both of them in their tracks, shocked by the sudden movement. It was followed by two small space crafts, weaving around each other, one nearly making contact with the side of their ship. They looked at each other with twin expressions of surprise, before losing their balance as a small explosion rocked the ship slightly.  
“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Bev said with a long suffering sigh after they straightened up.  
“Nope.” 

__________________________________________________________________________________

“Richard- Richie- Rich, we’re gonna be late.”  
“Hmmmmm.. Shhhh, baby, it’s okay.”  
“It is not okay, we are commanding officers, it’s expected that we’re on time-”  
“They’ll wait.” Richie Tozier shrugged, so constantly unaffected by responsibility in a way that should have Eddie Kaspbrak fuming, but somehow managed to make the situation all the more enticing.  
“I’m so shocked Bill hasn’t discharged you.” Eddie decided on saying, instead of the myriad of other things that came to mind that he knew would have him trapped there for another thirty minutes.  
Presently? He was stuck between the back of his breakfast bar and his boyfriend, who was pressing insistent, open-mouthed kisses up and down his torso, five minutes prior having claimed that Eddie looked quote “irresistible in those things”, the things being Eddie’s standard issue Starfleet undershorts, the exact same one’s Richie had on, Eddie had argued, but to no avail. His other defenses of the very true facts that one, Richie had seen him in them about a thousand times before, and two, that they were currently very behind schedule in their morning duties, had done nothing to admonish Richie’s determination.  
… Not that Eddie really had much he wanted to complain about.  
“Me? But I’m the best pilot in the fleet.” He smirked against Eddie’s neck, before mouthing at a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear he knew his man loved so much.  
Dammit, Eddie thought. That’s the fucking spot.  
“Keep dreaming.” He tried to snort, feigning disinterest, but his body betrayed him as he practically moaned with his exhale, relaxing into the soft touch of Richie’s hands.  
“C’mon baby…” Richie mumbled between love bites. “Let’s go back to bed. Just for a little while.”  
“Rich…” Eddie tried to protest, his sense of responsibility quickly losing the battle with his libido.  
“We’ll only be a little late.” Richie pressed the next kiss to his lips, deep, passionate, and whole, the way he knew Eddie fucking liked it. “What’s the worst that can happen?” He broke away to smirk at his lover, one hand coming up to tuck a piece of Eddie’s hair back.  
Eddie nearly fell off the counter with the collision that shook the ship.  
“What the fuck was that?” Eddie exclaimed, grabbing onto Richie for support as they both recovered from the jostle.  
“Get dressed.” Richie quickly helped him jump down, stepping away quickly to grab the yellow shirt of his uniform off the chair at the dining table he’d left it draped at. He tugged it on quickly as he stepped closer to Eddie’s door, ear to the surface and listening for signs of a struggle. As Eddie pulled on his clothes in a hurry, Richie’s left hand hovered over the phaser in his belt, the other raising to hit the com on the wall. “Bridge.” He muttered into it.  
“Eddie?” Came Bill’s urgent voice.  
“It’s Rich. Are we under attack?” He asked as Eddie darted over, clumsily pulling on his shoes.  
“We don’t know. Crew’s only reported seeing two small crafts and a missile. Get your asses up here.” Bill ended the call.  
Richie cursed under his breath, knowing he and Eddie were in for quite the talking to when this was all over, which he would of course take the blame for.  
Or he’d try and blame it on Starfleet’s undergarment regulations. They were the real culprits here.  
“Let’s go-” Eddie went to exit the unit, but Richie threw an arm out to stop him. He pulled the phaser out of its holster, holding it close to his chest as the door slid open and he exited first. He glanced down the hallway both ways twice before allowing Eddie to exit.  
“We’re clear.” He took the other man’s hand and began to jog down the hallway towards the lift.  
“Christ above Rich, he just said we’re not under attack. You don’t have to be so protective of me.” Eddie griped as Richie pulled him into the lift, the doors sliding shut behind them. Bill had activated the yellow alert; Eddie’s face was awash in clear yellow light as the lift began its ascent. Richie thought for a moment that Eddie was dipped in sunlight.  
“Yeah, and that’s what they told me on the Farragut.” Richie said solemnly, causing Eddie’s expression to instantly drop. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Richie stopped him with a hand on his cheek. “Just let me be a little paranoid, okay? You’re the world to me, Eds.”  
“Chee, you won’t lose me.” Eddie returned the gesture, taking Richie’s face in his own, wanting to laugh at Richie’s raucous curls, who’d yet to have been tamed this morning. “You’ve got me, always.”  
“I love you, sunshine boy.” Richie smirked, grabbing Eddie’s hand and kissing it.  
“I love you, moonbeam.” He said with a laugh, tugging on one of Richie’s curls before kissing his hand in response.  
The lift came to a stop, and they broke their embrace as they stepped onto the bridge.  
“Took you fucking long enough.” Stanley said as they passed him, quickly taking their seats at the console.  
“What can I say Staniel, I’m a man with needs.” Richie bit back absentmindedly as he fired up his station as quickly as possible.  
Eddie flushed crimson when he noticed both Stan and Mike eyeing the blossoming hickey on his neck with raised eyebrows. He tugged the collar of his uniform up higher as he began to boot up his own control panel. “What’s the-” He paused to clear his throat. “What’s the plan of action, captain?”  
“Get me eyes on our portside. I want to see those vessels.” Bill sat on the edge of the captains chair, his chin steepled in his hands.  
“Aye aye.” Eddie said quietly, turning to his controls to pull up the camera feeds to the main view screens. Soon the images crackled into view, the ancient cameras on their exterior fighting hard to keep a clear picture. “We’ve got two foreign vessels sir.” Eddie stated as he trained a camera to focus on them. “I theorize that collision we endured was the projectile the crew reported.”  
“What’s our damage look like, Stan?” Bill said cooly.  
“Minimal hull damage on the portside of deck six. Shields at ninety two percent.” Stan reported as he examined the data on his screen.  
“Zoom in on those ships, Eddie. Can you identify them by sight, Beverly?” Bill turned to look at her, as Eddie prompted his cameras to refocus.  
“Depends on the make. If it’s from a system I’ve studied, I can.” She said with a shrug, standing to cross closer to the viewing screen. Eddie still fiddled with his camera toggle, the slow system refusing to respond to his prompting.  
“Any day, Edward.” Bill said sternly.  
“Sorry-” He grew flustered, furiously mashing the controls to no avail. He resorted to slapping the console open-palmed, while Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow. A moment passed before the screen responded with its instructed zoom. “There.” Eddie said quietly, shoulders hunching as they all turned to face the screen.  
“I don’t know the make, but, those are pleasure vessels.” Bev said after a moment of consideration. “They’re not built for combat, the body style-” Flashes of light suddenly filled the screen, the ship shuddering as they were hit again.  
“Then why are they firing at us?!” Eddie turned to look at her, expression incredulous.  
“I don’t know!”  
“Shit.” They heard Ben mumble from his station. They looked over to see him frowning down at the surface, where his coffee mug had toppled over and mashed his buttons.  
Thankfully it had been empty.  
“Hail those ships, Ben. I want to know what the fuck is up with this.” Bill said, his voice growing more and more strained with frustration. Ben removed the mug and began flipping switches, trying to open a channel. “Stan, how are we holding up?”  
“They’re… not really doing anything to us.” Stan said, confusion coloring his tone. “Minimal hull damage. Shields holding.”  
“What the fuck…” Bill muttered to himself. “Richie, get our blasters online. I’m gonna corbomite them if they pick up.”  
“Damn.” Richie said, eyebrows shooting up even further as he turned and began booting up the blasters. “Someone’s got you in a bad mood today.”  
“Any responses?” Bill ignored his comment, pointedly speaking to Ben.  
“No. They’re refusing to pick up. I can’t get a word out to them.”  
“They’re totally fucking with us.” Richie shrugged, tapping a finger on his console as the loading bar remained a steady thirty-five percent.  
“That cannot-”  
“That’s all it could be, Stanny. And also, can you and Beverly please get some guys on my blasters again, this shit is taking forever.” He sighed, tilting his head back in impatience.  
“How long did it take them to load last time?” Bill said through a scowl.  
“Like, twenty three minutes.”  
“Minutes?” Beverly gaped.  
“Yeah. Minutes.”  
“That’s it.” Bill stood. “I’m engaging them. Eddie, open the bay for my shuttle.”  
Eddie looked over his shoulder in confused surprise. “...O-kay?” He turned back to his controls, scrolling through menu selections to find the right action. “You sure that’s necessary?”  
“I have not had enough sleep to deal with this bullshit.”  
“Yeah, you show em who’s boss, Billy Boy.” Richie said with a smile, tucking his hands behind his head as his bar hit thirty-eight percent.  
Bill rolled his eyes, stepping towards the lift. “Stan, you have the con while I’m out. I’ll make this-” He froze, hand hovering above his equipment belt.  
“Yeah?” Stan turned from his diagnostics to face Bill, expecting further instruction.  
“... Has anyone seen my keys?”  
“Not recently.” Stan offered through Beverly and Richie’s following laughter.  
“You lost your fucking keys?” Richie was bent over his station, smacking it in glee as he laughed.  
“At attention, Tozier!” Bill snapped, hands curling into fists at his sides. “Open a ship-wide, Ben-”  
“Already on it buddy.” Ben said with a small smile as he flipped on the channel. Richie straightened his back ramrod tight, a goofy expression on his face as he did a mocking salute.  
“Yessireeeee.” He drawled, avoiding Bill’s poisonous glare.  
“Attention, crew of the USS Derry.” Ben’s voice sounded, muffled and static-y in their ancient speakers. “We are currently under a code yellow. We do not presume to be under attack but we have been engaged. Everyone please remain at your stations, prepared for action. We are also looking for the captains keys.” Another bought of explosions shook the ship.  
“They’re on a silver-” Bill started”  
“They’re on a silver clip.” Ben said, nodding at Bill in slight exasperation, as if they hadn’t been over this a million times. “Anyone who finds them needs to report to the bay, where the captain will be waiting. Please remain calm.”  
Before Bill could fully enter the lift, more missiles collided with them, shaking the ship even more. They looked to the view screen, attempting to hone in on the attackers, when Ben’s station beeped.  
“We’re being hailed, Bill.” The captain looked at him in confusion, mouth opening to ask if it was the vessels. “Starfleet frequency.”  
“Put them up.” Bill said, sighing as his shoulders dropped. He sat back down in the captain's chair.  
Richie and Beverly straightened up as well, at attention fully. Eddie quickly switched back to the main viewscreen, which revealed another massive Federation ship, three times their size and three times their technological capabilities, dead-on facing them.  
“Displaying now.” Ben said calmly as he started the feed.  
“Denbrough!” A loud voice shook the bridge, their superiors angry tone crackling over the speakers. “Can you please explain to me why your ship- which is all the way out in the Andromeda sector, by the way- is sending out a distress signal when you seem to be unbothered?”  
“Admiral Bowers.” Bill said in his best authoritative voice. “We are actually-” The two ships zoomed in between the federation vessels, shooting aimlessly at the Derry’s hull. “Just fine.” Bill stopped with a sigh. “I haven’t sent out a distress signal.”  
“Then why have I been receiving one?” Bowers growled, gesturing behind him where his communications officer was desperately attempting to quiet their beeping station.  
Bill slowly turned to look at Ben, who was beet-faced. Ben peered down at his desk, where the mug he had moved earlier sat rested on the distress call button, holding it down.  
“Oops.”  
“Oops is an understatement, Hanscom. We went full-warp to get all the way out here to check on you. And for what?” The two ships zoomed through again, this time shooting small bursts at the flagship across from them. “These- flies?” Bowers turned and barked short orders at his crew, who immediately sprung into action. There was the familiar sound of a transporter, and then they watched as the destroyer shot down the two vessels with ease. There was more of a scuffle, muttered voices, and then Bowers was in front of the camera again, his crew holding two puberty-stricken Therbians, who looked entirely too proud of themselves.  
“This is your distress call, Denbrough. A couple of joyriding teenagers.” Bowers spat. “I should have you all demoted.”  
“Admiral, I-”  
“Captain!” A small voice suddenly came through their intercoms. “We found your keys! We’re ready in the bay for you-”  
Ben cut the comms.  
“... You lost your keys.” Bowers gave him a dry look.  
Bill swallowed nervously. “... No…”  
Bowers’ eyes rolled into the back of his head. “Again, Denbrough?”  
“We had the situation under control, Admiral-”  
“No! No more excuses. I want this ship docked at base on Terra in three days time. I’m filing a report on you and your crew for incompetence.”  
Everyone’s faces dropped.  
“Our warp core is on half-life sir, it’ll take us longer than three days to get there.” Beverly said timidly.  
“Then I suggest you get your reserve up and running, Marsh.” Bowers said with a sickeningly false smile.  
“We’re not equipped for a reserve, sir. This is a pre-mecha model craft.” She fired back.  
Henry scowled at them. A fuse in their overhead popped, raining sparks on Eddie’s station, who squealed as he jerked away, his nervousness causing an overreaction.  
“Your ship is a fucking mess, Denbrough. Report to me as soon as you arrive.”  
Bowers cut the feed.  
Mike placed his head in his hands as his fellow crew sat around him stunned.  
As much as he hated to admit it, he had to agree.


	2. the academy

When the spires of the station first came into view through the windows of the old Hanlon farm truck, Bill didn’t know what to think. His brain nearly short circuited; he’d seen photos and pamphlets a heard testimonials about the thing, but he’d never been able to grasp just how  _ big  _ it is.

Mike’s father, Will, turned to look at him from the driver's seat, smiling at Bill’s look of wonder.

“Impressive, huh?” He grinned, Mike now taking notice of Bill’s expression and joining his father’s reaction. Bill simply nodded, too focused on watching small ships slowly float up and away from the tallest towers, hesitating before blasting away in beams of light, shining in the midday sun. Mike’s father laughed at that, and continued. “And these are just the ones for earth transport. You should see the kind you’ll be taking off in.” 

The truck sustained its path through the open fields near the base, clouds of dust trailing behind it, confetti in a celebration of change, as Mike and Bill watched with blooming hearts as their future barrelled towards them in the fields of Maine. 

It took awhile to get all the way to entrance gate, and even longer to wait in line behind all the others that were in the drop off zone. Mike scanned the area to see if there was anyone else from Derry, the small town where he and Bill hailed. He thought he maybe recognized a face or two, but it was no one they knew well. When they finally reached the unloading zone, tucked away in the shadow of the second highest spire, Will pulled the truck up to the curb and parked it in their designated section. There were about ten spaces along the curb, each with people in varying stages of exiting vehicles. Some were families dropping off young adults, probably just barely a day over the age minimum. Others were older, stepping out of cabs by themselves with only a bag or two in hand. Bill hopped out of the passenger side, reaching the tailgate first and dropping it carefully. He clambered up inside the bed of the truck to grab the two identical duffels that contained everything he and Mike would have moving forward. They’d never travelled before, and were currently the farthest away from home they’d ever been. They had to go buy the bags brand new, hence their purchase of the same one. 

Two boys in a small town on Earth, looking up at the stars every night and just…  _ knowing  _ someday they’d be among them. 

Mike retrieved the bags from Bill’s outstretched hands and set them on the curb, turning to face his father and Bill as he descended. The tailgate went back up, and the three stood looking at each other with an electric current of excitement and nervousness and sadness and  _ hope  _ flowing through their spirits. 

“Boys.” Will shook his head, a wide grin overtaking his face, before looking at them both with wet eyes. “I’m so proud of you two.” His arms came up to envelop them both in a tight hug, his arm around Mike coming up to wrap around the back of his head and tilt it in for a kiss on the hair. 

“Thanks, dad.” Mike beamed at his father, rolling his eyes a bit at the affection.

“Ditto.” Bill sighed, fighting off tears as he stared in awe at the man who’d become a second father to him, in many ways preferable to the first. He looked at Mike, the boy who was his rock, his brother, his friend, and saw nothing but more of that self same fire, that burning to get out there and explore. 

“You’ll call when you’re set up in the housing.” Will continued, giving him a stern look.

“Of course. And you’ll tell Bill’s parents?” Mike gave him an identical expression, but in a joking, exaggerated rendition. 

“Soon as I hear from ya.” He turned to look at Bill again, expression tainted with sadness. “I’m sorry they wouldn’t come out to send you off.”

“It’s what it is.” Bill shrugged, scuffing the toe of his sneakers on the cement. “Can’t change their minds on the whole thing, so.”

“I’ll make sure they know you’re okay.” He put a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “They’ll come around one day.” 

“I hope so.” Bill let out a nervous laugh. Mike and his father took it as a sign to smile again, and before they knew it, the boys were wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug once more.

“My boys! Off to the academy.” The man laughed as he ruffled Bill’s hair. “You better graduate top of your classes.”

“We will, we will, dad!” Mike protested, but it was through laughter of his own as he tried to pry the man's grip. 

“And you better be a fuckin’ captain, young man,” He pulled Bill into a headlock. “Or I’ll have spent all these years hearin’ you yap about nothin’!” 

The three devolved into tearful laughs, more embraces being shared as the shade slowly shifted from the sun’s arc through the sky. 

“We gotta go, dad.” Mike said finally, the laughter leaving his shoulders.

“Okay, okay, I’ll get out of here. But you gotta promise you’ll come see your old man as soon as you can.”

“Whenever I get the chance, Dad.” He wrapped his arms lovingly around his father.

“And drag this one with you.” He joked, tugging Bill’s ear, earning a wet laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Bye.” Mike said, muffled by his father’s shoulder.

“Bye, son.” His dad returned softly. Mike pulled away, wiping quickly at his face as he turned to get his bag. Then he was pulling Bill into a hug, whispering the same farewell, and Bill felt loved so deep to his core in a way he’d almost never known before. They separated and Bill mimicked Mike, duffel now slung over his shoulder. Mike’s dad went around the truck and climbed in, starting it up. He waved to the boys who stood on the curb, reigning in tears. 

“Be careful you two! Make all of us back home proud!” 

“We will!” The boys called back in unison, waving and beaming as the truck pulled away and began to exit the compound. And as they turned and began to enter the throng of their fellow recruits headed to their transports, they knew, deep down, that somehow, they would.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“Alright, alright, Maggie, that’s enough pictures.” Wentworth Tozier waved a hand in front of his face with a squint, as though the flash was some kind of bug he could swat away. His wife rolled her eyes with a sigh, dropping the old digital camera clutched in her hand down to her side. Went stepped away from his son’s side, shaking his head to clear away the residual effects. Richie Tozier removed his large, obnoxious spectacles to rub at his eyes, comically blinking and earning a chuckle from his father. “See Mags, you’re blinding the poor boy.”

“He’s already blind,” She waved him off. “Courtesy of you.”

“Fair.” Wentworth laughed, clapping a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “But he’s gonna need those peepers in the best condition if he’s gonna be that big hotshot pilot he’s got his heart set on.”

“I still don’t know why you’re so determined on it…” Maggie said quietly, almost to herself, as she reached out to cup her son’s cheek.

“It’s what I’ve always wanted, Mags.” Richie gave her a weak but convincing smile, his tone colored with exasperation over how many times he’d tried to explain to her just what it meant to him to fly. She hadn’t understood the first time he declared it, after an evening of joyriding a friends cruiser, bursting into the kitchen with his windblown curls bouncing wildly around him and beaming. She hadn’t understood it when he graduated with a focus in piloting and aeronautics, her expression in the audience almost confused as they announced his major. She hadn’t understood it when he got his acceptance letter to the academy, flight path scholarship, and she wasn’t trying to now, the day he was leaving for it. 

It was disappointing, but it wasn’t something he was unused to. What mattered was that she was his mother, and loved him, even if she couldn’t wrap her head around his choices.

She shrugged and wrapped a curl around her finger. “If it’s what your dream is.” She gave him the best smile she could, and for Richie, it was enough to send him off with confidence. 

The pager in his hand pinged, signaling the arrival of his shuttle. 

“I gotta go, guys.” He looked up at his parents with solemn eyes, suddenly unable to joke around the lump in his throat. “I’ll call you as soon as we’re settled.”

“And every sunday, so I don’t worry.” Maggie reminded him as he grabbed his away bag, a small thing containing only his most valued possessions. 

“Won’t forget it. Bye Mags.” He gave her a thin smile, using every bit of his acting skills to hold back the wave of emotion as he hugged his mother goodbye. She stepped away after a moment, wiping her nose as she gave him space. Wentworth stepped over and grabbed Richie by the shoulders, a strange expression on his face as he locked eyes with Richie through both of their pairs of glasses. “Bye Went.” Richie joked feebly, giving a wobbly smile. 

Wentworth suddenly reached a hand up to grasp the back of Richie’s hair, fingers tangled in the messy curls there, a huge grin breaking out on his face. “Goodbye son. I love you.” They shared beaming smiles and wet laughter, before both men sobered up and pulled away. Richie awkwardly excused himself, utterly at a loss for words, and with more giggles and waves he left their eighth floor apartment and descended to the street, where his shuttle eagerly awaited.

Safely inside, he took a breath, and released the shock of the situation. He could count on his fingers how many times he remembered his father telling him he loved him. He knew it to be true; it wasn’t like his father was unkind. Wentworth just wasn’t a serious man, and hardly ever outright spoke his feelings. His head was already swimming with the weight of leaving home, leaving everything, to join Starfleet, but this added a layer of dizzying emotion he could feel it threatening to spill. 

_ Hell, he hardly ever says that. You can spare a tear or two for this occasion _ , Richie thought to himself.

And for the first time in his life, alone in the back of the shuttle on the way to the Academy, he cried, with a huge smile on his face. 

_ Happy tears. _

 

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

Departure from home for Stanley Uris is an all business affair. There are no tears shed, by any party, no gripping hugs or desperate smiles. There is only further instruction. 

On the way in his seat in the shuttles, Stanley did not gaze in wonder out of the viewing windows along with all the other just-old-enough recruits headed off in excitement to their futures. He thought only idly about how easy this will be for him. How he’s been training his whole life to follow and listen. 

He’s so lost in his head he almost missed the sharp intakes of breath emanating from the young boy beside him. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, surprising his seat mate, who flinched at the sudden question. 

“Oh- uh, yeah. Just don’t like flying, is all.” The other boy wheezed, clearly struggling to keep his breathing under control. 

“There’s nothing to worry about. These transports are as sound as any.” Stan assured him casually.

“How can you be sure?” The boy breathed, glaning wide-eyed around the insides of the vessel.

“They’re regulation. They have to be. People use these every day.” Stanley shrugged. “I’m Stanley, by the way. Uris.”

“Eddie Kaspbrak.” The boy gave a weak smile, before shaking Stanley’s outstretched hand with a clammy one. “You new this year?”

“Yeah. Science program.”

“Oh. Cool. I’m a recruit too.” 

“What’s your focus?” Stan finally turned to devote his full attention to the conversation, his interest and opinion of this Eddie fellow growing by the minute. Something about his lack of confidence was piquing his interest; or perhaps it was because Stan was so used to the narcissistic assholes of his prep school that it was refreshing to finally meet someone who was not so self absorbed. 

“Um… I’m undeclared, actually.” Eddie stared down at the hands folded into his lap. 

“That’s just fine.” Stan offered with a gentle smile. Eddie looked at him like he’d hung the stars. “I wish I was. I’ve been studying to be a science officer since I was a kid. It’d be nice to focus on something else for a change.”

“You don’t think its… dumb that I didn’t declare?”

“Fifty six percent of incoming recruits don’t, Eddie. You’re not alone.” Stan replied. 

“I just… don’t know what I’m even doing here.” Eddie said dejectedly, his voice small and almost inaudible. “I kind of just… got on board.”

“You didn’t plan to join Starfleet?” Stan gave him a slightly incredulous look.

“No.” Eddie shook his head, returning Stan’s gaze. “I think I was trying to get away, I guess.”

“From what?”

“I don’t know. Everything.” 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Everything, for Eddie Kaspbrak, turned out to be one thing, specifically; his mother. 

In the first week of Academy, Stanley and Eddie chose each other as roommates, as end-term project partners, and as friends. Since the latter required actual conversation and honesty, Eddie reluctantly came to share the reasons for his rather hurried departure onto the shuttle where the two met. Over opening ceremonies drinks he cryptically stated that she was the kind of parent who thought they could govern over every aspect of their child’s life with little to no consequences; Stan responded with an equally cryptic ‘preaching to the choir’ comment before the two shared a frankly unprecedented round of shots. In a brief bout of campus diner outings Stan was able to earn the information that Eddie was a hypochondriac, inherited lovingly from his even worse mother. When the subject of Stan’s lack of siblings came up, Eddie declared himself the same, and that he was fatherless as well. On a particularly low evening, one just before Stan’s major entry exam, he admitted that the final straw was his mother’s attempts to set him up with one of her coworkers, a young woman Eddie’s age named Myra. “She’s just- just fucking like her.” He said with a hiccup, downing his fifth beer for the night. Stan had also learned quickly that Eddie was a lightweight. “Ma made me go on a fucking-” Here he belched rather unceremoniously. “ _ Brunch date _ with her,” He said bitterly. “She fucking joined in on it. They spent the whole time talking about how I need to ‘gain weight’ and ‘put some hair on my chest’ and all kinds of other bullshit.” Another swig. “I told them it was probably a result of all the dick I get, and I promptly fucked off to the academy the next day.” 

Stan decided he loved Eddie, and it was almost solely because he’d never laughed so hard in his life. 

Before the preliminary was up, the only difference anyone could tell between the two was that one was studying science and the other was quite feisty. But from the outset, Stan and Eddie could feel just how strongly they were destined for each other, and to this day, Eddie will maintain he couldn’t have made it without his newfound family. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Another member, later to join said family, was the elusive Beverly Marsh. Not a living soul at Starfleet can tell you just what it was that got her there, but her closest friends can guess it had something to do with her deadbeat father.

“Deadbeat, being an understatement of course.” She said as she downed her gin and tonic. “I won’t get into the details, but you can easily guess where I’m going with this.”

“Christ.” Richie Tozier muttered in response, rubbing his eyes behind thick lenses. 

“Anyways, no need to dwell. I’m here and he’s in the ground so shit’s looking up, right?” She grinned then, a fiery, dangerous thing that had Richie wondering immediately what kind of woman he was currently having a drink with. She signaled the bartender for another, shot back half of it in one go, and Richie decided he very much liked whatever kind of woman he was currently being out-drank by. 

Beverly was an engineering major, part of the student team that discovered the technology to create small-op warp core reserves for pleasure vessels, and the most badass woman in the whole galaxy, as Richie would proclaim at every bar crawl the two attended. Richie met Beverly in their first Technology of Flight class period, when they both walked in sporting the classic shades-indoors-and-sandals-because- _ hangover _ look, made eye contact through the haze, and laughed their asses off at the sight of one another. Beverly quickly became a regular call when Richie got bored, which was all the time, and to her, Richie became the greatest source of entertainment the world had ever afforded her. Nothing delighted Beverly more than to goad Richie into performing ridiculous dares, pranks, and heists, which required minimal effort for a maximum payoff. Richie was always game for  _ literally  _ anything, and Beverly was one creative bitch. (another “affectionate” reference via Richie as he tried to explain their latest foray to the Academy campus police.)

One week into their schooling the two were inseparable. Two weeks in and the two were insufferable, their fame instantly and easily earned as the two most rambunctious freshman on the campus. 

A badge Beverly wears firmly and proudly, eventually to be joined by all her other Star Fleet distinguishments. 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

Benjamin Hanscom remembers his first meeting with Beverly Marsh more fondly than any of the others in their ragtag gang to be, and is still teased by his mother for the call she received that self-same night when he declared that he’d found the woman he was destined to marry. His embarrassment over the call is only eclipsed by his embarrassment over his blunder at flight school, where instead of training to be a pilot he had been training to direct them, and made one hell of a misstep when he misspoke and directed a student all the way to Spokane before realizing they’d gone three hundred thousand miles in the wrong direction. 

Ben joined Starfleet, as he admitted sheepishly to Beverly their first night out at a bar, to improve his communication skills.

It was an easy option, coming from a family of Federation devotionals. Ben’s father had been a member, and he vividly remembered his childhood of movement through the galaxy to follow the warp trails his ship left behind. It wasn’t the easiest life, leaving Ben often feeling as though he had no anchor, but as he grew older it only solidified his small-growing notion that an anchor wasn’t necessarily a place. When he met Bev, he decided she’d make a pretty damn phenomenal one. Little was he to know it came with an extra weight, one in the size and shape of one Richie Tozier. Even more to his surprise was the fact that Richie, and the others, would eventually become just as important. 

Communications studies started as an almost sarcastic field choice, a small part of him wanting to excel in the area just to tell his old flight school instructor to stick it. But after a couple months in, he really started to find his rhythm, the study and use of languages throughout the cosmos unfurling and dancing out in front of him, mesmerizing in their open possibilities. He became somewhat of a space transcendentalist, whiling away his free time alone waxing poetic about the future. The added bonus of slowly gaining a group of friends put the nail in the coffin of his passion. Understanding the beauty of communication and putting it to good use? 

Starfleet life looked better every day for Ben Hanscom in those early years. 

But right now, sitting at his station, prime culprit The Coffee Mug clutched in his hands as his crew looked at him astonished, he really wished he’d never joined. 


End file.
